


Wounds

by TheMirkyKing



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Hand Jobs, Healing, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMirkyKing/pseuds/TheMirkyKing
Summary: Thranduil notices that Bard is wounded, which Bard has been doctoring himself.  Thranduil insists on taking care of it and feelings that both were not sure about blossom in the aftermath of care.





	Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy, only a little naughty, story between my favorite kings.

The council had dragged on for over two hours. Thranduil stifled a yawn and reached for his wine, nodding absently at what Balin was saying, glancing at Bard Bowman. Correction, Lord Bowman, as the people of Lake Town, now citizens of New Dale, seemed have choosen him as their leader. Bard shifted in his seat and Thranduil caught the ever so slight tightening of his mouth, the minute furrow of dark brows and the small intake of pained breath. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. A week had passed since the battle and now, just as then, Bard had shown signs of pain. Thranduil scrutinized Bard closely. Bard was once again his usual grim countenance. Thranduil had already come to know that was just a mask, much like his own icy demeanor was.

Bard was continually surprise to him. When the elven host had shown up in Dale, Thranduil had dismissed his gratitude, as he didn’t want the man to think they had come only to help them. Bard had automatically addressed him as allies. Then Bard tried to talk sense into that stubborn dwarf, admirable attempt but one that Thranduil had known would fail. Gandalf’s council had shown that Bard was far from just a simple bargeman, which Galion had brought to his attention, the same bargeman that hauled the spent barrels from the cellars of his kingdom. Bard might have been that before, but Thranduil could see that he was beyond that now. Thranduil liked the dark man’s way of handling himself and the situation they faced. After Gandalf left with the hobbit, Bildo, Thranduil invited Bard to stay for another glass of wine.

One glass lead to another and for a brief moment of time, the worry about the upcoming battle was forgotten. Thranduil found himself laughing and smiling like he hadn’t done in years. Bard’s smile was at first shy, then slowly the full brilliance of it came out. Thranduil tired to dismiss the feelings which stirred in him when Bard’s hazel eyes met his. Thranduil reluctantly called the evening to a close, feeling slightly guilty for keeping Bard from his children on the eve of a potential battle. Thranduil was relieved when he came upon Bard in the ruins of Dale after the battle. Bard was holding all of his children, Thranduil could hear their cries of relief and joy that the battle was over and that they were all safe. The ache of Legolas’s departure was eased at seeing such a happy reunion. One that was cut short as a man rushed up, demanded Bard’s attention.

Thranduil had thought the grimace of pain on Bard’s face was due to him to having to leave his brood so soon. Bard nodded at what the man was saying. Thranduil couldn’t hear what was being said but from the gesturing and agitation, it was something that needed Bard’s attention. Again the ever so slight wince as Bard reached up to clap the man on the arm. The other man’s relief was obvious as he motioned for Bard to come with him. Thranduil could see the weariness on Bard’s face, which could explain it. 

Thranduil cursed himself now. How could he have miss-read all the signs of Bard being wounded? Bard once more shifted in discomfort. That settled it! Thranduil put his goblet down and cleared his throat, bring everyone’s attention to him. 

“Forgive me Master Balin, the day is waning. Perhaps we can pick this up again tomorrow?” Thranduil suggested. Murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group silenced Balin. Many gave Thranduil smiles of relief as they stood up and made their way out of council tent. Balin nodded curtly at Thranduil. Bard stood and began to leave with Balin.

“My Lord!” Thranduil called out, causing both to pause and turn towards him. Bard was still not used to been called “my Lord”, he often had a puzzled look until he realized it himself people were addressing. Thranduil felt a tug of affection at the bewildered look on Bard’s face. For good or ill, the refugees of Lake Town had found their new king, and Thranduil intended to make sure that Bard was fit for the task. “Lord Bowman.” Thranduil said as he stood and came towards him. “I apologize, I must take up a little more of your time.” 

Bard opened his mouth but before he could say anything Thranduil pressed on, “I’m afraid it’s rather delicate matter which concerns your family.” His eyes holding Bards with an intensity that caused Bard to frown with concern.

“Of course, King Thranduil.” Bard said. Balin glanced at Thranduil in worry, who inclined his head at him. Balin patted Bard on the arm as he left him, shaking his head. Bard was a good man, but with three young children it was no mystery that it would involve them, Balin thought. He just hoped everything was okay. 

“What is it? Have my children done something wrong, King Thranduil?” Bard asked once Balin was gone. The grave look on Thranduil’s face made Bard worried that it would be something less then pleasant.

Thranduil stepped closer, voice low as he said, “You are wounded.” Bard stared at Thranduil in bewilderment. This was the delicate matter? Bard sighed in relief. True, he was, though it was simply a swallow cut on his ribs and he had been taking care of it himself. For the most part, he ignored the growing ache. What surprised Bard was that Thranduil had known.

“It is nothing.” Bard assured the elven king. Thranduil frowned and reached out to grip Bard’s upper arm as he moved to leave. Bard swallowed at the look of concern on Thranduil’s face.

“It might be nothing now,” Thranduil cautioned. “If left untreated it could become something more serious.” Bard began to protest and Thranduil cut him off. “I have seen more wounds the I care too in my lifetime. The weapons of the enemy are foul beyond the steel of their blades, please Bard, let my healers see to you.”

If it had been anyone else, Bard might have brushed off their concerns, it was only a scratch really, yet Thranduil’s words sunk in. He hadn’t really thought about what evil could be festering in the wound. Bard nodded at Thranduil and saw the relief on the elven kings face. Thranduil squeezed his arm and tugged him to follow. Bard pulled away, Thranduil turned to him in confussion.

“I can not bother your healers with such a small wound, Lord Thranduil.” Bard said. “They have other concerns to deal with. I will find a healer somewhere in our camp.” 

“Will they not be just as busy?” Thranduil replied gently.

Bard flinched at this. Thranduil was right of course, what few healers they had were still busy. Bard felt a stab of guilt, he should be there, helping the survivors. But what good would he be to them, to his children, if his wound became worse? Already he had put the battle behind him, wanting only to find his children and start rebuilding their lives again. Yet a new battle seemed to be looming: to go back to his former life or take up the mantel of leader, which seemed to be already being placed on his shoulders. Bard sighed.

Thranduil could see that Bard was at a loss at whom to go to. Everyone, not just the healers, were busy trying to gather up the pieces of their lives. There was nothing wrong with wanting to get back to normal. While Thranduil wished to return to Mirkwood, he also longed for something he hadn’t thought he would ever feel again. That something had been kindled when he had first swept into the makeshift camp of the humans and had been greeted by a grim and dirty man, one who Thranduil could see greatness in. Now as he stood watching Bard, there was only one choice to make.

“Then let me attend to you.” Thranduil said. Bard shook his head at this. 

“My lord…. I couldn’t…you…you can’t possibly do that!” Bard stammered. 

“I was not always a warrior Bard.” Thranduil said softly, giving Bard a sad smile. “And while I may not be as gifted of a healer as others of my kin, I have enough skills to tend to basic wounds.” Bard flushed at this.

“Yes… yes, of course, but I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Bard protested, shaking his bowed head. Thranduil’s chuckle was light.

“You have not asked this of me, I am offering my help freely.” Thranduil said. “One king to another.” 

Bard jerked his head up at that, his eyes sharp as he looked Thranduil. Thranduil calmly held his gaze till Bard inhaled deeply and nodded.

“Good, let us go to my pavilion to take care of this.” Thranduil once again took Bard’s arm to lead him out of the tent. As they left it, Thranduil addressed the guards in elvish. Bard noticed them glance at him before saluting and hurrying off.

“Everything alright?” Bard asked. Thranduil nodded. 

“Yes, just arranging for your children to be cared for tonight.” Thranduil explained. 

“I don’t really think that will be necessary….” Bard began before Thranduil cut him off. 

“Bard, it is simply better if they are close, this way you do not have to worry about them.” Thranduil reasoned. 

“Surely it will not take that long to…” 

“You have left a wound unattended, how bad it is, is yet to be known.” Thranduil chastised him. Bard grimaced and sighed at the truth of it. Thranduil gave him a sharp nod, glad that the man was finally seeing sense. They made their way to the elven encampment. Thranduil’s pavilion glowed golden in the gathering darkness. As they approached, the guards saluted and one swiftly held the tent flap open. Thranduil waved Bard to enter as he stopped to speak to both the guards before entering the tent. His commands given, Thranduil entered, moved past the table and chairs, swept back the curtain to his sleeping platform. Bard started at this. Thranduil cocked a brow at him. 

“The bed will be more comfortable to lay on then on a table, yes?” Thranduil said, “And should you find yourself tired, easier for sleeping.”

Bard fidgeted, he had been in Thranduil’s tent a few times, but never in his “bedroom”. The thought of sitting, let alone sleeping, on Thranduil’s bed had him on edge. Thranduil’s sigh had him quickly moving into it. Bard already felt like he was imposing on the elven king, it wouldn’t do to annoy him on top of that. Thranduil’s deep voice behind him caused him to jump slightly.

“I need to gather a few things before I can begin, please remove your jacket and shirt and relax, I will be back shortly.” Thranduil informed him and let the curtain fall shut.

While waiting for Galion to arrive with the needed items to attend to Bard, Thranduil changed into his night clothes. Galion said nothing as he came in, eyeing his king. He brought what he knew would be needed when the guard had informed him of what Thranduil was doing. Thranduil ignored Galion’s pointed look and with a wave of his hand dismissed him, along with informing him to take the guards with him. He was well aware of what Galion thought about Bard. He would have laughed at the elf’s dislike, except he understood that it was only out of concern for his well being. Thranduil sighed and picked up the tray. 

Once Thranduil left, Bard did as instructed, folding his clothing and placing them on the bed before sitting next to them. Bard tried to calm himself as he sat there, half naked, waiting for Thranduil to return. He glanced around. The makeshift bedchamber was simpler then he expected. Just the low bed, two short tables next to it with lamps burning already and a long trunk at the end of the bed. The bedding was soft and in a deep crimson, with plush pillows of cream at the head. Bard couldn’t stop himself from letting his hands stroke the material. His own bed paled in comparison, while a step up from his old pallet stuffed with hay, it was nothing like this. Bard was almost tempted to lay down. Thranduil had already made it clear he was welcome to, but he remained upright. 

The curtain rustled and Bard almost gasped when Thranduil reappeared. He did blush though. Thranduil was no longer in his formal attire, he was in a thin, long nightshirt. The material hugged his body, arms bare and with a low neck that gave Bard a full view of Thranduil’s pale throat. Bard had been struggling with his growing attraction for the Elf King and seeing him like this did not help. He had been telling himself it was foolish to fall for him. For one, Thranduil was an elf and immortal, the other was he was a king and would soon be leaving to return to Mirkwood. And finally, while Thranduil seemed to welcome his friendship, there would be no way he would be attracted to Bard.

Thranduil noted the flush on Bard’s cheeks, the way he looked away when he came in. Thranduil felt the stir of desire for Bard. Thranduil knew his own feelings towards the human, knew the folly of it better then Galion could lecture him about. The folly was he knew whatever happened between them would be short lived. He would once again have to endure the pain of losing one he loved. Still, he couldn’t deny that he would welcome the joy and happiness even if it meant heartbreak later. He hadn’t fully allowed himself to open his heart to Bard, unsure if the human felt anything other then friendship, though he had thought he had detected mutual attraction. Bard shifted on the bed, bring Thranduil back to the task at hand. 

The tray he carried held two bowls, a pitcher of hot water, healing herbs, a vial of ointment and clean bandages and some cloths for cleaning. He placed the tray on the trunk at the end of the bed. He separated the bowls, selected some of the herbs, tearing them up and dropping them into one bowl. Bard inhaled the pungent scent that arose as Thranduil did this. Thranduil smiled, knowing that scent would easy him. He poured the hot water over them, added a few more, stirred it with one of the cloths, poured water into the other and washed his hands, wiping them dry on another cloth before turning towards Bard. Thranduil smiled softly at him as he knelt before him. 

“While that seeps, let me look at your wound.” He said. Bard sat up a little straighter. Thranduil reached out and untied the make shift bandage. Bard chewed his inner lip, suddenly worried that he had left this wound too long. Thranduil gave a small puff of relief as he saw it. Still, he was not pleased that Bard had ignored it. 

“No wonder you have been uncomfortable.” Thranduil chided him. It was a long cut, not too deep, but it was swollen and angry. 

“Is it infected?” Bard asked, his voice a bit uneasy. Thranduil poked it which cause Bard to yelp at the pain.

“What do you think?” Thranduil said. Bard had the good grace to hang his head in shame at allowing it to go unattended. “It is, but I believe I will be able to save you.” Bard’s mouth fell open in shock. It was that bad?! Thranduil couldn’t help it, he laughed at Bard’s stricken look. 

“Oh Bard, you are too easy to tease!” Thranduil said as he reached over and picked up the soaked cloth. He wrung it out and turned back to Bard, who glared at him.

“You pointed eared bastard!” Bard swore and grunted in pain as Thranduil applied the cloth, cleaning it with more vigor then necessary.

“Maybe next time you will seek help from a healer instead of taking care of it yourself?” Thranduil drolly informed him. Bard winced again and Thranduil lightened his touch. Bard sighed in relief as the herbs began to sooth the wound. 

“Hopefully I will never receive another wound.” Bard said. Thranduil swallowed at this. His hand stilled over the wound, pressing the damp cloth to it. Bard opened his eyes to stare directly into Thranduil’s deep blue eyes, filled with emotions. Bard swallowed hard at the look Thranduil was giving him. 

“I hope that as well.” Thranduil finally whispered. Bard nodded. 

Thranduil turned back to the bowl, dipping the cloth again and went back to cleaning the wound. Satisfied with his work, he then reached for the vial. Bard made a pleased noise when the scent reached him. Thranduil dropped some of the oil onto his fingers, slicked the wound and placed a soft cloth over it, then quickly bound it. He sat back on his heels, letting his hands rest on Bard’s knees. 

“I feel better already.” Bard announced, and he did. Whatever herbs Thranduil had used were already doing their magic. Thranduil squeezed the top of his knees.

“Good!” Thranduil hesitated before adding, “I think you are still in need of deeper healing.” Bard gave him a puzzled look. Thranduil once again reached for the vial. “This oil will not only ease the ache of wounds but also of the muscles. Will you allow me to apply it to your shoulders?” Bard’s eyes widened at this. Also, did the light from the lamps trick them? Was there a slight tint on Thranduil’s cheeks? Thranduil did not look at him, his head was turned away, almost as if he was shy. Bard’s heart hammered. 

“Yes.” Bard softly said. Thranduil gazed up at him, his lips parted in a pleased smile. He poured the oil into his cupped hand, rubbed them together before slowly raising upon his knees, placing his hands on Bard’s shoulders. Bard closed his eyes as Thranduil began to kneed his tense shoulders.

Bard was very aware of how close Thranduil was, how his hands slide over his shoulders, down his arms and back up. At first the motion was brisk, then slowly Thranduil’s hands and fingers became gentler, no longer massaging but caressing. Bard’s breathing had picked up, as had Thranduil’s. Bard noticed that Thranduil hip and thigh pressed against his knee and calf, rocking gently there. Thranduil’s finger tips glided over his clavicles and down his chest to brush against the top of his waist band. Bard’s breath hitched at this. Thranduil leaned in to press his chest against Bards. 

“You are much too tense.” Thranduil murmured in his ear. “I….I could help you with that.” His hand briefly touched the bulge that was tenting the fabric of his pants before sliding up to ghost over Bard’s harden nipples. Bard moaned and turned his face to Thranduil, who claimed his lips. Bard met Thranduil’s lips with his own passion, pulling his tongue deep into his mouth. Bard pulled Thranduil closer, gripping his hip and sliding his other hand into his long hair. Thranduil groaned as Bard wrapped his fingers in it. Frantically, Thranduil tore at the laces of Bard’s breeches, and once loose, plugged his hand down them and gripped Bard’s erect member. Bard broke the kiss to lean back, lifting his hips so that Thranduil could push his pants down. 

Thranduil leaned his head against Bard’s shoulder, kissing and gently sucking on his neck as he stroked him. Bard’s eyes rolled back as Thranduil worked him. He was dimly aware of Thranduil lifting his night shirt to palm his own cock. Thranduil’s rhythm increased, as did their sighs and soft moans of pleasure. Bard bucked his hips as his orgasm began to build. Thranduil’s ragged breathing and rapid motion between his legs signaled that he was close too. Bard pulled Thranduil’s head up to kiss him hard as he cried out against his mouth, spilling over Thranduil’s hand. Thranduil’s own cry of release came next. 

Bard slumped back, Thranduil’s head resting on his chest, his hand still buried in the long tresses. Both lay there as their breathing slowed. Gently, Bard untangled his hand from Thranduil’s hair, freeing him to clean up. Thranduil kissed his chest, and slipped off of the bed to kneel once again. Bard propped himself up on his elbows, watching. Thranduil pulled off his night shirt, using it to clean his hands then tossed it away. He then removed Bard fully of his clothes. With a fluid grace Bard that amazed him, Thranduil stood up, letting Bard’s eyes devour his lithe form. Thranduil’s hungry gaze roamed over Bard’s body, which caused Bard’s spent member twitch in response.

“See? I told you,” Thranduil purred as Bard scooted back on the bed and he crawled towards him, licking his lips, “you would be staying the night…..you need further healing, I think.” 

“Well, who am I to question the advice of a healer and a king?” Bard chuckled as he caught Thranduil up, kissing him deeply.

As far as wounds went, both were pleased with the healing process.

The only scar it left came decades later. It was deep, yet Thranduil never regretted it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. It's been forever since I have written anything so let me know if there are any major mistakes, no beta for it! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcomed!


End file.
